


my revelations will number one thousand

by farfetched



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 03:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched
Summary: Will's first revelation is that Tango doesn't annoy him.It's the start of many, and perhaps, of something new.





	my revelations will number one thousand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thunderhel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderhel/gifts).



His first revelation is that Tango doesn't annoy him. 

His presence is almost totally questions, some things people can answer, some they can't, some questions that can't be answered, and some things that are so downright obvious that Will isn't really sure why he asks them. 

But what should have been annoying – and what does annoy, to greater or lesser extents, the rest of the team – Will finds kind of comforting. It's funny to see people caught on the hop, like Tango is messing with them. He isn't even sure he's not, but he finds that he doesn't necessarily mind that, either. There is something hilarious about Chowder's face as he leans over during a study session and whispers in all seriousness that Tango had asked him what his favourite team was. 

Will had gotten in trouble for laughing, but Chowder just looked so surprised, so honestly shocked, and he's genuinely not sure if Tango has guts, a talent for chirping like no other, or is genuinely that thick. 

He's interested to find out, so he watches. 

Tango skates pretty well. He's no Jack Zimmermann, but then were many people? Kent Parson maybe. He plays an attacking position, and a few times in practice they've been playing against other members, practice for plays and drills Ransom and Holster want to try out, and he's good. It's like he thinks faster than most people, and he catches both Nursey and him on the hop, almost dancing around them with a surprising nimbleness, and grins sheepishly at them after that, his shot blocked by Chowder, but only just. 

He asks a thousand questions, about whether he's good enough, how often they practice and all about the training regime and how hard it is, and Dex just answers, falls into an easy rhythm of it, enjoys knowing things, being able to educate Tango of the ways of the Samwell Men's Hockey Team. 

It doesn't annoy him at all. Nursey skates off in apparent disgruntlement, and Chowder drifts off to discuss things with Holster, and it's only when Ransom shouts at them to stop slacking that Will even realises they've been talking for ten minutes already. 

Tango is just easy to talk to, he thinks as he starts again with his exercises, the tadpole absorbed into a group with Bitty and Whiskey doing something else, but Tango catches his eye once, and smiles slightly, before getting back to his drills, and Will smiles back reflexively. 

Not annoying at all.

* * *

His second revelation about Tango is that he's shy, and questions are his defence. 

Will kind of takes to watching him fairly often, which isn't difficult really. Nursey chirps him sometimes on being spacey, and Chowder teases him, but he usually manages to shuck it off with excuses of long hours and tiredness from practice. 

With his observations, he recognises a pattern. It's what he does best, after all, patterns; Ransom and Holster even started noticing how he's good at picking apart strategies because he noticed things, plays teams use, and he finds himself watching a lot of collegiate hockey footage in the pre-season, between computer labs and mandatory language assignments. 

The more people are around, the more questions Tango asks. The weirder the situation, the more questions Tango asks. 

Will can only assume it's a desperate attempt to understand, to not shut down and just not speak. At team dinners, he's constantly turning to Whiskey or another tadpole on his other side, questioning things, inane, random things, almost like a stream of consciousness. 

_How come the rings in wood aren't circular how come the grains don't go the right way why isn't the Haus bigger why was there ever a basement who are the ghosts Holster keeps talking about where are we going for Halloween_? 

Whiskey answers a few half-heartedly, then gives up, turning back to his dinner, grabbing his phone in one hand. Tango asks who he's texting. Whiskey scowls, and Will swears he catches the words 'Lax bro' uttered under the tadpole's breath. 

No one else seemed to hear. It's early in the year. The tadpoles (technically the frogs, but... the name has stuck now) haven't really settled into the team yet, grouping up and looking a bit longingly at the rest of them, spanning years and ages. 

It's a good thing they don't hear. Ransom and Holster have a very big grudge on the lacrosse guys, which Will still hasn't quite fully deciphered, although it seems to involve a prank gotten out of hand, the close proximity of their frat houses, and some envy of the speakers. It doesn't help one of the lacrosse guys works at the Murder Stop and Shop, and therefore gets cheaper booze for parties. Will thinks it's mostly jealousy driving it, but chooses to say nothing. 

Tango catches him watching, and Will smiles slightly before turning back to his own lunch, although he's sure out the corner of his eye, he sees Tango return the sentiment. 

How he realises that the questioning is odd though, is when Tango stumbles upon him skimming through some code he's trying to fix at eleven at night, trying to decide whether it'll work better for him to continue now, with or without caffeine, or just give up, sleep, and wake up early to do it. 

Tango sits gingerly on the computer next to him, biting his lip nervously, asking if it's alright to sit there, and looking immensely relieved when Will nods, a little hesitantly. He likes quiet for working, particularly coding. It's why he does it at such odd hours, so he's not got random freshmen yattering on about their love lives and conquests and work to distract him, and he wonders if Tango can even be quiet. He always seems to have a commentary. 

But ten minutes later, the tadpole hasn't said anything. When Will looks over, he's poring over a document, eyes flickering at an impressive speed, almost blindly writing notes for himself on a pad of paper. He notices Will watching, tilts his head just slightly, and Will realises he's been staring. 

"Uh, do you want a coffee from the machine? It's shit, but better than nothing. I'm not walking to Annie's." Will says, unsure why he explains. Unsure why he asks, really; he's not really got the funds to be generous, but it's only a coffee. 

Tango smiles shyly, and hesitates for a moment.   
"Do they have tea?" He asks, and Will blinks. Then laughs. 

"I don't know. I've never looked. What do you want if they don't have tea, though?" He returns, and Tango takes a moment to think about it, before grinning. 

"Just hot water."   
"Hot water? On its own?" Tango nods, looking amused. "You sure?"   
"Now who's asking all the questions?" He chirps mildly, shaking his head. "I have tea with me, just not many." He explains, and Will just decides not to question it. He leaves, waits around for half an age because the machine is old and slow - not as bad as some of the other machines he's had the misfortune of using - and gets a cup of hot water as requested, putting it down next to Tango when he returns with a black coffee for himself. 

He can't help but watch as Tango fishes into his bag, draws out a sachet, opens it and drops it into the water. The tadpole leans over it, watches it strain, flicks his eyes up to him and back down again. 

"It makes good patterns." He says, catching Will out for a second. Gently, Tango pushes the cup closer to him, and peering into it, he indeed sees it swirling and mixing, observing it until it is virtually all a pale green colour, and Tango takes it back, dips the sachet a few times in lieu of using a spoon to mix it, but leaves it in as he takes a sip, breathing out like he's finally able to relax. 

Will feels like there are chirps to be made, questions to ask. But he realises he's never seen Tango so relaxed, so peaceful, returning to his reading as Will returns to his, sipping his black mud coffee. He feels like he intruded on a ritual, a routine. 

Imagines a situation where Tango makes himself tea late at night, curling his hands around a mug, and breathes a sigh of relief. Slows his mind down. Lets the incessant questions lie. 

That's when the revelation actually hits him, that Tango hides behind the questions. Ask everyone else, and they ask nothing of you. Ask everyone else, and they forget what they were going to say to you. It's like disappearing in plain sight, and it all suddenly just makes sense, the bashfulness in the locker room, the speediness of changing, the way Tango will clutch his hockey stick closer to his chest and his hands are always occupied doing something, he's rarely at peace but then- 

He's always with a lot of people when Will see him. Maybe he's shy. Maybe he doesn't deal well with crowds. 

Maybe Will wouldn't mind seeing more of this side of him, sitting together in a companionable silence, typing and writing and coding and drinking and staying up late because they both lose track of the time. Maybe he's not upset when they both yawn at nearly the same time, look at each other, then the clock, then back at each other. Maybe he's even happy when they walk back across campus, Will lying slightly when he says his room is directly past Tango's, just so he has an excuse for an extra minute talking about school and classes and hockey. 

Maybe he finds himself far more tolerant of those questions, even defending Tango when Ransom snaps at him for asking one too many. 

Maybe he finds himself sharing a smile with Tango afterwards and thinking it was worth it for the glare he got off the co-captains.

* * *

His third revelation about Tango is that he quietly gets upset when others tell him off for his questions. 

It takes him a little longer than it should have to notice, mostly because he doesn't actually get to spend all that much time with him. It's mostly during hockey practices, and Will is often paired with Nursey, trying to keep their growing stability as friends going. They work fairly well together, and as defencemen their role is a little different than Tango's, who needs to be a bit faster generally. He and Bitty work quite well together, their speed combining to a blur of action that Will actually thinks could be a useful weapon. So Will and Nursey are often on more blocking exercises, and even so, Whiskey seems to have taken somewhat of a shine to Tango, although whether it's more because he can't hang with the lacrosse guys during practice, because he feels smart being able to answer Tango's questions mostly - they settle down over the time, as Tango gets more tired, and Will barely hears him at all if he's just practicing with Whiskey, just a few odd clarifications of exercises - or because they are genuinely friends, Will really doesn't know. Whiskey is alright, but he doesn't seem nearly so dedicated as Tango or some of the others, and at times he comes off as quite cold. 

But it's during a meeting on a new play they're trialling, Tango asks something. Maybe not a stupid question, but not a difficult one, and it's coming up to midterms, and Will knows Ransom and Holster are stressed, but he bristles when Holster snaps at him to stop asking questions. 

Will's grip on his hockey stick tightens as unseen by anyone else, Tango's face drops, just enough to be visible. His eyes narrow slightly, and his body language becomes more closed, his arms curled further across his body, the toes of his skates pointing together inwards, his shoulders hunching over slightly. It's gradual, but Will barely listens to the rest of the talk, captivated by the show of vulnerability, and the need to stick up for him. 

It's odd. He doesn't really get it with anyone else. He's not hugely over-protective of anyone, not his older brother or his younger twin sisters. He'd happily punch someone over something they'd done to his siblings, but it was rarely needed, and half the time, he knew it didn't really help. 

Now though, he wishes he was standing closer to Tango, wishes Tango would look at him and Will could try and convey that it's alright, Holster doesn't mean it and even if he does, I'm here for you. 

Tango doesn't, and Will finds himself nearly breaking formation before anyone else, speeding over and stopping in front of him. 

"Want to partner for suicides?" He questions, and Tango looks up, mystified. Behind him, Will hears Nursey parrot his nickname, and Whiskey pauses, but he shrugs at them and pairs with another freshman. 

Tango nods. Will notices how his shoulders relax again, his face looking less drawn. 

He feels happy that he's able to negate the previous effect, warns Tango that he won't go easy on him, and puts the happiness he feels towards trying to beat Tango. 

It doesn't work. He doesn't care, laughing with him as they return to the locker room, exhausted.

* * *

His fourth revelation is just how much Will enjoys having Tango involved in his life. 

He barely notices, at first, that the time he spends with Chowder and Nursey slips down from 'all of the time' to 'some of the time' and Tango effortlessly slides in to fill the gap. The freshman is in a few of his classes in the spring semester, and Will likes seeing how relieved Tango looks when he finds that out, how they have a margin dedicated for note taking in the less interesting bits of their lectures. He likes finding out little things about Tango, how he keeps a notepad of questions to ask, or google at his convenience. How he gets nervous if he can't get to it, how he has another list on his phone that he transcribes. How he'll research the question until he's satisfied, make a digital note of it, and cross it off the list. How he likes having tea instead of coffee, and likes it especially when he's got some tea sent from his grandmother over in England, nice ones, and he jokingly complains that Americans can't do anything with tea, and Will jokes back that it's because they threw most of it into the harbour near there, and Tango laughs at that. 

He hardly notices how their late night Tuesdays in the computer lab become a regular thing, how he picks Tango up sometimes on the way to practice, how they text on a fairly regular basis, Tango sending him questions he thinks Will can answer, and Will sending amusing remarks from people back to him, and answers when appropriate. How he goes up to Tango's flat occasionally, meets his roommate (Paulo, fairly loud, on the tennis team and planning to attend a kegster sometime soon), and sits with him in the kitchen for an inordinately long time, the sun rising before either of them leave and Will spends the day tired and clumsy, wishing he hadn't done it. But then it's all washed away when he skates practically into Nursey at practice, and hears snickers, before turning to find Tango ending up doing the same thing to Wicks. They both share a secret smile over it, even as Nursey chirps him about his lack of co-ordination and implies that he's tired because he got some last night. 

It's only when it gets to Easter break, and he goes back to the monotonous days of studying in between working as a cashier, that he really realises how closely Tango has slotted into his life. He itches to text him all the time, to the point where his mum asks him if he's got a girlfriend, or at least a problem, because _really William, no phones at the dinner table_!

It's only when he realises that despite his general aversion to social media, he finds himself with snapchat, only one username on that list, with a little fire icon besides it. 

The numbers count up as the days of the break ebb away, and Will realises that he's more at home at Samwell than he ever was here, small town Maine. 

Tango shows him snaps of Oregon, videos of a snow-lightning storm, and then they end up on the phone because Will revealed he had a book on weather and Tango had needed to know all about it. 

He realises when he finally returns, spots Tango in Annie's as he walks past, and surprises him by buying a tea and a coffee before he even gets to the table, Tango reading some history book on medieval Britain, and Will grins, asking the questions, and letting Tango regale him with all this violent knowledge of olden day Britons, and relaxes. 

Home, he thinks.

* * *

The fifth revelation Will has is that he's in love with Tango. 

It's not the first kegster. It won't be the last, either. Will doesn't get as excited as Ransom and Holster about them, but there's something about the hustle and bustle of it, the music jumping through him, so strong that it feels like it takes over his heartbeat. The stench of alcohol in the air, the people dancing, the way he can just watch and observe and drink, and Nursey usually tries something stupid like dancing on a table or swinging from a lampshade. But it's two random tadpoles- he doesn't quite recall their names of in his tipsy state - that have Nursey patrol today. It leaves Will free to stand by the side, and just watch as people get more and more wasted, catching snippets of conversations and weaving around them all to collect more alcohol, content to maintain his mild level of drunkeness. 

Although, he ought to have remembered. Nursey, of course, had had to do a keg-stand for being the first frog with an assist last year, and they'd unanimously decided Will hadn't been drunk enough, so made him do one too, despite making no decent plays on the ice. 

Tango had gotten an assist to Bitty that day. Will had been off the rink at the time, taking a swig of water and breathing heavily to try to recover, feeling hot and sweaty, but he'd looked up and Tango had swivelled around a befuddled Yale D-man, deftly flicked the puck across the ice to Bitty who neatly nudged it though one of the spaces the goalie wasn't able to cover, and he whole team had been up, yelling and grinning at it. 

Tango had turned, found his gaze and grinned, no trace of shyness in his gaze, only pure pride as to having helped, and Will had grinned back, yelling _You go Tango!_ before adding Bitty's name on almost as an after thought. 

So Tango, today, has to do a kegstand. 

Feeling a surge of protectiveness sweep through him, Will pushes off the wall, elbows his way through the crowd a little clumsily, getting a few chirps and insults and grumbled swearing from various drunk students, until he gets to the unofficial keg-stand corner, and sees that Tango is already mid-keg-stand. He doesn't look happy about it, his eyes squashed closed, but he holds on and Holster and Chowder eventually lower him down again, the freshman wavering on his feet, blinking his eyes open. They struggle to focus for a long moment, blinking sluggishly as he surveys the room with an inebriated exactness, overcompensating for the knowledge of his drunken state. 

His gaze finally lands on Will, and Tango quirks his lip up into a half-smile, stumbles over - and into Will - his hands on his chest and smiling up at him dazedly. 

"Deeeeeeeex." Tango slurs, stretching the singular syllable out for an inordinately long time. Will hears Chowder laughing, can practically feel the grins from Ransom and Holster. "Why there two of you? Where did, uh... Whisks... No... Whiskers? No... Whiskey!" He looks so pleased with himself for remembering, paired with the strange heated sensation that floods into Will when he finds himself overly aware of Tango's hands still on his chest, so oddly close but without all the hockey gear, it's so much more... intimate. He does his best to ignore this thought. "Where'd's Whiskers gooooo?" He questioned, hiccuping softly, and wrinkling his nose. 

"I dunno, Tango." Will comments, feeling powerless to move. He feels like if he moves, he might do something crazy, but he doesn't even know what. 

Tango just giggles, throwing his head back.   
"Prob'ly um, what like By-Law thiiiirrrrteeeeeen? See 'ffffffuck the Lax bros', Whiskey's like, 'I'm tryin!' And it's like, uh, that real bad love one, Shakey-weapon, 'cept one way, cause like, lacrosse don't give a daaaaaamn, Dex, you know?" Tango wobbles, and Will grabs his shoulders, concerned as to the standing capabilities of the freshman, clearly hugely inebriated. Probably in need of fresh air, water, and sleep, and thank God it's a Saturday tomorrow. He doesn't think he's ever seen Tango so drunk - but then, the tadpoles are often on bouncer duty, either to check the lacrosse team don't try to crash, or to make sure Nursey doesn't try to cook a burger while high out of Bitty's butter and flour supplies. 

"Yeah, let's- let's get you back to your dorm." Will suggests, and Tango blinks once, twice, and then smile spreads over his lips, resting his head on Will's chest, looping his arms around him, sighing heavily, humming. 

"Yeah, but I don't wanna stand, Dexys..." He murmurs, and Will tries not to concentrate how close they are, trying to shrug him off, unsure why he keeps reacting in such a way. It's not like the rest of the team aren't touchy-feely at all, so why is it bothering him with Tango? 

"You have to walk, Tan." He points out, edging more towards tipsy than drunk. His thoughts are slowed but fairly normal, except for a bit of wooziness. Tango just hugs him closer, shaking his head. Will thinks he sees the flash of a camera over the lights of the party. 

They look ridiculous. Tango is about the same height as him, just slumped over to the degree that he looks like he's a foot shorter, and he refuses to walk when drunk, apparently. 

"Carry me Dex!" He cries, and Will goes for a compromise instead, looping one of Tango's arms over his shoulders, and supporting his weight via a hand around his back, settling just below Tango's rib cage, as he pulls the sloshed tadpole up and shuffles out of the Haus, filled to the brim with couples making out and worse, the floor sticky with spilt drinks - at least, Will hopes that's all it is - and eventually emerges with an intact Tango, relatively clean. At least he hadn't flopped onto the floor like Chowder had at some point. 

He probably should have gotten him some water, Will realises as they slowly cross campus, the quiet only pierced by the background of other parties going on across Samwell. It would have helped him sober up faster, but Will was more focused on getting out of the Haus without further incident, not certain that if he left Tango for more than a few seconds unattended, that he'd be whisked back into the party, only to be found a week later unconscious in the basement. Stranger things had happened during kegsters. 

Surprisingly, they get to Tango's block without incident, and although navigating the stairs is an issue, they manage well enough, without too many stumbles. Tango takes a whole five minutes trying to find his key until he gives up, asking Will to look for it instead; Will is glad, both for still being mildly drunk, and that no one is around, because he would guess that it sure looked like something else was going on, trying to find Tango's bloody key from his jeans. 

At least they're not skinny jeans, and therefore less likely to murder his fingers. 

He succeeds fast enough, and ignores the odd feelings he gets by opening the room, shushing Tango when he goes to speak - pointless, since his roommate is elsewhere, Tango says probably at his girlfriend's. 

Barely having time to shove a pint of water at Tango and telling him to get cleaned up, Will sits on the bed, waiting to check everything's alright, that Tango isn't going to die in a pool of his own sick in Samwell digs. 

"Tiiiired." The voice registers before the click of the lock and the creak of the door. He finds Tango, in boxers and a ratty old t-shirt, staring at him quizzically. 

"Yes, you are. Drunk too. Go to sleep." Will says, standing up to leave. He'll wait until Tango is actually in bed, but the sight of him is doing strange things to Will’s heart, things he's not entirely comfortable with. 

Tango actually pouts at him, saunters closely, unsteady on his legs. Of course, he'd get more drunk before he sobered up - he'd just done a kegstand, and who know how much other alcohol. He's pretty sure the freshman had been supplied with more than a few beers and shots, so Will's quietly impressed he's still standing at all. 

"Dex, you can't- can't leave! 'M not... 'M not..." He trails off, in his drunken state completely missing Dex altogether, flopping onto the bed, and flailing until he ends up laid on his back, staring balefully at Will. "Don't feel well." Tango admits, keeping his eyes on Will, who refrains from chirping him. 

He has also lost his self-respect, apparently. All because of some inquisitive frog. Tadpole. Whatever. 

Will sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Mind you, he's not so sure he's really up for the walk back to his dorm. More he can't be bothered than he doesn't think he can, but there is a sofa in the hall, he can kip on that. 

"Fine, I'll be outside if you need me, I'll sleep on my phone-"   
"Noooo," Tango slurs, haphazardly sitting up, and patting the bed. "Here." He demands, watching Will intensely. 

"No, Tango, it's only outside-" He's really not sure. He's got a thing about sleeping in other people's beds, it makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't want to take Paulo's bed, but he is not sleeping with Tango for a thousand reasons he's resolutely not delving into right now. He should just go. He should just put a pint of water on the side with some painkillers and make some toast or something and go. 

"Dexys..." Tango murmurs, and dear lord, Will thinks, he can actually flutter his eyelashes, he has beautiful eyes even from so far away, and it does very strange things to Will. 

Like completely melt his resolve to leave. 

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose, warding off the wooziness of being tipsy and his rational brain telling him it's a bad idea, and instead swipes the blanket off Paulo's bed, and plonks it on the floor. Tango watches him as he steals the glass, drinks a load of water himself, refills it and puts it on the bedside table, hopefully out of reach of any drunken flailing. 

"You're sleeping there?" Tango questions, sounding miffed. Will shrugs to hide his growing confusion. 

"I shift a lot, and that bed's tiny, Tango." He comments, as he wrenches Tango off the bed and puts him under the covers instead. 

The freshman goes to sleep almost instantly, light snores just audible, and Will breathes a sigh of relief before he curls up on the floor. It's surprisingly not as painful as it should be, although that might change in a few minutes. He can't even be bothered to change out of his clothes, only wrapping up his jacket as a pillow, although Tango's clothes would probably fit him. He thinks to himself that he'll stay just until he's sure Tango's fine, he'll probably be up earlier than him anyway, and he'll let himself out. 

This doesn't happen. 

Possibly a product of sleep deprivation borne of long hours in the computer lab, studying and trying to get work over the summer without telling his uncle - or any of his family (admittedly he's kind of trying to find stuff around Samwell) - he rolls onto his back and immediately goes to sleep. 

At some point, he feels warmer, a bit squashed, but comfortable, so he barely wakes up. 

This is his first mistake. 

When he finally is roused from sleep, he's still on the floor, as suspected. What's changed is that he's not alone there. Tango had, at some point in the night, brought his comforter over and basically flopped on Will, his messy hair brushing Will's cheek and they're practically breathing in unison, their chests pressed together and Will is totally unprepared for the happiness that sweeps him. 

He's never woken up next to anyone, ever. Not like this. Siblings, he's had to share beds with sometimes, but it's not this. This is peaceful, is feeling totally content with lying on the floor of a freshman dorm with the guy he loves. 

Will blinks. 

What? 

Suddenly everything slots into place. The vague discomfort whenever the guys on the team or back home talked about girlfriends and the things they'd get up to with them, and Will had always kind of nodded, lied enough to keep himself out of suspicion, invented a fling during some camping holiday that never happened. He'd never looked twice at girls. Didn't see the appeal, really, but then he'd never really seen the appeal of guys all that much either. Objectively he could tell that people were attractive, he'd just never been attracted to them, and it all just seemed so awkward. Besides, who would date a lanky hockey-playing ginger computer nerd? 

But Tango. 

Tango. 

Where does he even start? 

He's started looking forwards to his time spent with Tango more than anyone else. He's started keeping an eye out for the tadpole around campus, getting weirdly disappointed whenever he spots someone who looks similar when they turn out not to be Tango. He enjoys the little competitions they have during practice, enjoys seeing him succeed, enjoys seeing him happy. Likes answering his questions, or even racing to find an answer against him, likes chirping people with him, likes watching him, likes... 

Likes Tango. 

Will would put a hand to his face, but they're trapped underneath the tadpole, totally oblivious to Will's biggest revelation so far. 

He can't honestly say he's alright with it, either. He was brought up in a place that dripped all sorts of poison in his ear without him even realising how much. Nursey, Shitty, Ransom, all the others had endless conversations with him about what he could and couldn't say, and he wonders if that was the start of him not feeling like home was home anymore. 

Because Samwell was home to him. Was it even Samwell in total, or just the hockey team, maybe even one member in particular? 

Will only knows that if he stays much longer, Tango is going to wake up to him having an A+ freak out, and that's something he'd really rather have in private, thank you very much. Particularly where it concerns said lump lying on top of him, and Will tries very hard to swallow the need to stay, to ignore the desire to tell him. 

So, in his better interests, (why did he stay last night why didn't he just leave why is he so weak when it comes to Tango?) he worms his arms out eventually, and somehow managed to manoeuvre the sleeping tadpole off him, pick him up, and put him back on the bed with too much disturbance. 

Until Tango, apparently a clingy sleeper - maybe he's still drunk - groans and flutters his eyes open, staring blearily at Will, a lazy smile springing to his lips, and Will has to look away for fear of doing something irreparably stupid. 

"Dex! You stayed, you stayed!" He says happily, sounding groggy but not horrendous. Will's surprised he didn't seem to have thrown up, but then he also didn't wake up upon his new function of being a human body pillow, so him not noticing isn't really a dead cert. Tango grabs his elbow, hugs Will's arm to his chest, smiling still, and Will seriously needs all the coffee in Annie's to deal with this appropriately. 

"Why didn't you stay in bed?" Will cannot help but ask. He's trapped anyway, torn between leaving and wanting to stay, wanting to check Tango is alright after the horrific amount of alcohol he'd had last night. 

Tango's looks transforms from happy to adorably puzzled to understanding over the course of a minute. He laughs quietly. 

"You looked cold! I was cold. I thought it'd be warmer if we..." He seems to finally understand that not many people do that, a frown growing. "I made it weird, didn't I? I'm really, uh, I get really, um, friendly when I get drunk." He explains, suddenly bashful, although clearly not entirely sober. 

"It's fine," Will assures him, although it's anything but, his mind racing. "Nursey can and will sleep on or with anything when he's stoned. And you haven't seen Ransom and Holster. Well, I haven't either, but Shitty was chirping - graduate," he adds at the confused look he gets in response to the name, and he practically sees cogs whirring in Tango's brain. "Anyway, Shitty was chirping about how he found them sleeping together in the bottom bunk after a kegster, and Rans had a rant about how the ghosts were following him." Will blathers, but it does seem to make Tango relax. Finally, he stops hugging Will's hand, and it takes a lot for him to back away without looking like he's doing it. 

"Dex, I, thanks, you really didn't have to stay, but I..." Tango looks seriously vulnerable, and Will hates that he wants to kiss him. 

"It's fine! It's fine, I wanted to check you were alright. And you are. So I'll go now. Drink lots of water, painkillers on the table, I'll just. Um." He shuffles back, steps on the comforter and blanket, pauses for one second, and makes his decision. Roughly folding the blanket, he throws it on Paulo's bed, and when he turns around again with the comforter, vaguely uncomfortable with the idea of going any closer to Tango with his current levels of self-control, the freshman is back to sleep again. 

Will hurriedly throws the comforter over him, and runs. 

_Shit_ , he thinks to himself.

* * *

The next revelations number too many for him. He loses count. He doesn't want to keep track, because each one makes things more irrefutable. 

He cannot help but watch Tango, even when he shouldn't. His skin burns when they make eye contact. He constantly yearns for more, but also for it to go away. He gets jealous when Holster and Ransom start praising Tango, and Tango perks up a bit more around them, even if Will is happy about it too. He's sad when he can't even try to join a conversation between Holster, Bitty and Tango about the newest episode of a show Will doesn't have time for. He's in a constant state of awareness of where Tango is, whether they're on the ice or not. He loves watching the freshman skate. 

To preserve his sanity, Will throws himself harder into studying and hockey. He gets up early to do extra practices, hoping that the additional tiredness will help. 

It never does. 

It doesn't help when Tango seeks him out in the computer lab, and it's just not fair, Will is trying so hard to keep things as similar to how they were before he realised and he just knows he's failing. 

He has dreams where he wakes up next to Tango, warm breath curling onto his cheek and an almost silent laugh, beautiful eyes tracing his skin and fingers following the map of his freckles, and then he actually wakes up and is disappointed. 

How much he wishes he could have changed it. Would he ever have realised if he'd left Tango at the Haus? If he'd asked one of the others to loan their room or a mattress or even the disgusting sofa. He didn't have to walk Tango back. He didn't have to stay, should have tried harder to stay awake, should have should have should have. 

Will is a practical person though. What's done is done, and his fuck ups can't be changed. He almost blames Tango for being clingy, but he just can't. It's kind of endearing, but he hates himself somewhat for thinking so. 

Being somewhat practical, and wanting to preserve what's left of his friendship, he decides to tell Tango. Not because he's hopeful, not because he thinks it'll make anything better, but more because he hopes it'll clear the air. Tango will be fine with the concept, Will is fairly sure, evidence by his lack of revilement when a guy hit on him at a kegster near the start of the year, and he'd barely blinked at Bitty's coming out. 

It's more whether he's alright that it's directed at him, and from Will. 

He is not nearly brave enough to do it face to face. It leaves him with the option of emails, texts, and phone calls. The two former options are out merely because of the ease with which it could be a joke, and he needs Tango to know he's deadly serious. He anticipates a negative answer, and as such he waits until he had the longest possible break between them without any forced interaction. They have a class together on Wednesday, and practice on Tuesday, and Saturday, so he aims to phone Saturday night, or Sunday morning. Gives them at least some time apart, and maybe they can just about deal in practices. It's not like they often get paired together. The class is more of an issue, but Will thinks they can both manage. 

He hopes. He's not missing class over this unless he has to. 

But then they have a game on Saturday that Will had forgotten to account for, and they win which means going to the bars around campus, and drinking, and Tango stays infuriatingly close all night, determined to include him with the chatter about Whiskey's Lax bro boyfriend, nicknamed Foxtrot and a story is made up with Foxtrot being in a local junior hockey league, not across the road in the dreaded lacrosse frat house. 

Will admires their dedication. Spending more time with Tango has meant more time with Whiskey, and the other freshman has grown on him, to the point where he'd call them friends. 

But he can't concentrate on anything else, his leg on fire where Tango is pressed up close to him in the crowded bar, the swipe of fingers as they exchange drinks, Will wishing he could hold on forever. The puffs of alcohol infused breath on his cheek when Tango leans in close to ask or answer a question, and Will kind of loses track of time, trying to fight the desire to tell him there and then. 

But he gets to a point of drunk where he doesn't care as much. 

"Will you go out with me?" He asks, and Tango blinks, leans closer. Whiskey has been drawn into conversation with the other freshman, nobody else is close to them. 

"What?" It's genuinely that he hadn't heard, and Will is faced with a conundrum of whether to forge on or not. He could turn back, save himself the embarrassment, the damage. 

It's getting close to summer. He's sure Tango can be professional during practices and games if he's uncomfortable with him, and Will just wants it done with. Hates the inaction, the stasis. 

"Come with me?" He asks, but it's barely a question. Tango nods, puzzled, and in his tipsy state, Will reacts to the impulse to grab his wrist, to lead him, revels in the comfort of Tango's thin wrist in his hand, he can just feel the bones and the steady pulse of blood in his veins, which somehow settles him. He doesn't know where to go, just lets his feet guide him and they end up strolling around the quad, people milling around drunk and shouting. 

It's nice in a very Samwell way, and Will has a feeling he's just about to break it. But he can't stop himself, can't make himself not like Tango, can't make himself stop feeling or acting weird, can't stop any of it. It feels more reasonable that Tango should know why he's acting this way, and if that means losing him, well, Will will just have to deal with that. It's not like he'll see Tango over the summer anyway, anyway, and they can avoid each other fairly effectively. 

Pulling himself to a halt, he realises he's still holding Tango's wrist, and drops it. He gets a puzzled look in return, and he wonders just how drunk they both are. 

"I like you." Will says, blunt as always. He doesn't know how to be subtle. Tango blinks, an utter lack of comprehension on his face making Will elaborate. "I would like to go out with you. Date you. Whatever." 

Tango looks very surprised. 

"What?" He breathes, his eyes wide, and just like that, Will loses his nerve. 

"Forget it." He mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away. "It doesn't matter." But it does, to him. "Don't worry about it." He says, half hoping Tango is drunk enough to forget this, but he knows deep down that he isn't. Neither of them are, although the suffocating disappointment makes him want to go back to the bar and lose himself in vodka or a thousand beers until he doesn't know his own name. 

He starts walking away, back towards the bar. Maybe he can goad Nursey into a drinking contest, although that's a bad idea for so many different reasons. Maybe he's just full of bad ideas, and he curses that he ever thought this was a good one. 

"No, Dex, wait!" He spins immediately upon hearing Tango's complaint, and the world spins with him for a time. Tango looks conflicted, and the bubble of hope that had risen in his chest pops with a sludge of dread. But he waits. He waits, because it's polite, because Tango wants him to. Because he'll fall over if he moves, anyway. 

"I... I don't really..." Tango grips his elbows in a defensive manoeuvre, looking at the floor. Will feels like there is more, so he stays quiet. Words have only failed him, anyway, and a quiet part of his brain whispers that assumptions are nearly always wrong. "I never really think about, uh, things like this, so I- I don't know." He peers at Will, unsure and vulnerable. "Can I think about it? And give you an answer in a bit?" He asks, almost whispering. 

Like Will was ever going to say no. 

He's not that kind of person, forcing people into action right that second. He prefers not to wait, but some people do, and he respects that, even wishes he could at times. 

Besides, it's not an outright no. It's probably a postponed no, but it's not a total no. 

Will nods, trying not to smile with the hope.   
"Sure. Let me know." He affirms, and Tango grins, relieved. 

"Thanks, Dex." 

They return to the bar together, and it's a little awkward, Will can't lie. Once they return, they split, Will sitting with Chowder, Farmer, Nursey and some chick they must have picked up at some point, and they all raise an eyebrow when he orders three shots of vodka and a beer. 

Just because it's not a no doesn't mean he can't commiserate his probable stupidity and potentially the oncoming regret, and disguise it as celebration.

* * *

Very early Monday morning finds him sleepless and in Faber with the sun rising, skating around and around. He doesn't get much opportunity to just skate, and he goes backwards around the ring for a time, his music playing while he sings along. 

A few hours later, he nearly falls into a pile in shock, because he doesn't not expect to be joined by anyone. Not that he necessarily would have noticed, but he certainly doesn't expect Nursey, of all people. Nursey, who unless he absolutely has to, would not rise before ten at the earliest. Nursey, who gives him a bemused look, and Will blushes, aware he's been singing, probably quite loudly and quite badly. 

"I thought Beyoncé was more Bitty's domain, to be honest." Nursey chirps at him, lazily skating forwards to keep up with him. Will pauses his music and wraps the earphones around his fingers, shoving everything in his pocket. 

"It wasn't that, and you know it." He returns, leaning to one side to follow the line of the boards. Nursey follows him. 

"Chill, Poindexter. It's close enough." Nursey comments idly. Will just can't be bothered. He wanted some space, although he knows he could have skated for hours more and gotten no further. It's not like his problem is going to resolve by skating more, his legs hurt, and he just hates the waiting. He's never been all that patient. "Seriously, Dex, what's up?" 

"Nothing." He shoots back, unwilling to discuss it with anyone, but particularly not Derek Nurse. He'll drown in the chirps. He'd be lucky if they were only that, probably, considering some of the things he's said. 

Besides, it's nothing Nursey can actually sort. 

"Bullshit." Nursey replies instantly. "You've been acting weird all week." 

"Doesn't mean anything's wrong." 

He gets a sardonic look for his troubles. 

"I swear you replied to a text at one and six in the morning."   
"I didn't realise you cared."   
"I don't if you're going to be snarky about it." Nursey comments, raising an eyebrow. 

"Sorry." Will mutters reflexively. He pulls a tight circle, one that catches Nursey for a loop for a moment. He swiftly catches up though, his unexercised legs no match for Will’s fatigued ones. “If…” Will starts hesitantly, then shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry. It’s nothing you can help with, anyway.” 

Nursey peers at him suspiciously. “Who are you to say that? Try me, Dex.” 

Will snorts loudly; Nursey only takes his eyes off him to avoid a collision with the barriers surrounding the rink. Will thinks there is a class in here in half an hour or so, so they’ll have to vacate soon.   
“How can you answer for someone else?” he asks rhetorically. “I don’t like waiting, but I have to.” 

“Is this about Tango?” Nursey questions without hesitation. Will stumbles over his feet, and his legs cramp up, preventing his recovery. He spins on his back a good way across the rink, and stops, staring at the ceiling. Nursey drifts over, peering down at him, worried and bemused in equal measure. “It was kinda obvious, y’know.” 

Will blinks. Then covers his eyes, sure he is totally red by now. 

“I’m not going to chirp you for liking Tango. Yet.” Nursey adds, which okay, fine, but still, not great, and it does nothing to ease Will’s embarrassment. “Come on. Annie’s, coffee, and knowing you, staying quiet instead of talking about your emotions like a healthy person?” 

Will shifts his arm enough to frown at Nursey, who is stretching a hand out to him.   
“Not like you ever did that.” He remarks, to which he gets a shrug in response. He takes the hand though. 

“Don’t practice what you preach. Something like that.” Nursey replies as he hauls Will up. Will can only snort at that, but he does feel a little better.

* * *

Will does talk, at least the bare basics of the situation; Chowder happens upon them in there a little later and listens to him say it a second time, and gets very excited. Will warns them not to tell, or try and persuade Tango. Since he gets two unamused looks at that, he drops it pretty quick. 

They chirp him a lot less than he would have imagined, really; he’s glad, though. He wasn’t sure how he’d cope, but then looking back on his interactions with Tango, it _was_ quite obvious. 

Time drags on; Tango is more furtive around him, shyer than he was, and Will is sad about that. He misses the close contact, wonders whether he’ll get that again. It’s more than a little awkward, but they manage well enough. Nursey and Chowder chat to him about it sometimes, but then everything gets swept up in finals, and, well, nothing positive happens during exams, like always. He studies and studies and drinks enough coffee to wake a corpse, and then studies some more. He puts on the audio of lectures during his training sessions, and while he sleeps, since that’s supposed to help. They pass in a blur, and then he is packing. He didn’t manage to get any other work, so he’s back on his uncle’s lobster boat for the summer, searing the smells of the sea into his pores all over again. 

He’s almost managed to forget by that time. He’s only really reminded when he sees Tango, which was only for the one exam, and in the number of people taking it, they didn’t really talk. Will had another exam later that day, anyway, so he’d rushed off. 

But a call of his name at the door pulls his mind right back to those words on the square. Blue eyes remind him of it further. Nursey, who had been lounging in the computer chair, stands up immediately.   
“I’m getting a coffee,” he announces with all the subtlety of an elephant in a library, and nods at Tango as he marches out, leaving the two of them alone. 

Tango weaves his hands together. Will messes with a clip on his bag, not really wanting to hear, but knowing he has to listen. 

“Can we try it?” Tango blurts suddenly, and when Will looks up in surprise, his face is awash with embarrassment. 

“Try… it?” Will repeats, his mind stuck on negatives. He doesn’t get it. Try what? Tango’s eyes don’t stay on any one place for very long at all, flickering all about the place.   
“D- da- _dating_ ,” Tango finally manages to spit out. “I did research!” he exclaims abruptly, finally, finally looking at Will again. “On, on stuff like… like dating and stuff, and I, I don’t really know, but I like your company more than everyone else’s, and I really don’t really know but I think if I could try it, I’d know?” 

Will takes a moment to process this. Part of him is happy, but another part of him feels a little like…  
“An experiment?”

“No! Yes. Um. I’m not making much sense, am I?” Tango takes a deep breath. “Not an experiment. Can I tell you something? I’ve never kissed anyone. I’d never ever thought about it, but then that night after the kegster, I kinda really wanted to, but I’d never done that before, right? I’m pretty sure I’m asexual, but I just equated that to no relationships, but then you, and I just feel different, you know, and it’s just, so- so _fluffy_ , I can’t even describe it, I’m trying! I just. Just, I really wanted to try those things. With you. Like, dating.”

Will can’t help but laugh. Tango really isn’t making much sense, but he suspects he gets the gist of it. It’s not a no, really. The abashed look he sees cross Tango’s face makes him stop, though, and he settles for smiling instead, in a manner he hopes is comforting.   
“So an experiment that you want to try?” Tango nods. “With me specifically?” Tango nods again. He’s so earnest, so sincere, it just makes Will smile more. “Okay, okay. If you’re okay with that. But if ever you’re not happy, or I’m overstepping a boundary or something, just shout, please. Even if it seems stupid or small, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything. I probably won’t always know.” 

Tango beams at him, and darts forward to hug him. After a moment in shock, Will reciprocates. It’s a little weird, he’s not going to lie completely – he’s been taught that this was not ‘manly’ since age zero, it’s hard to erase that kind of brain-washing – but it also makes him feel at ease again. As though he’s been on unsteady ground for a while now, and this is his first step onto solid foundations. 

“If…” Tango murmurs, muffled where his face is buried in Will’s shoulder, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m like… 80% sure I like you. Romantically.” 

Will snorts, but can’t deny it does make him feel better.   
“Hope I can decrease the uncertainty,” he remarks. Tango pulls back just enough to grin at him madly.   
“You already are!” 

And if that isn’t a ringing endorsement, he thinks to himself, feeling warm. Will hopes he will get the chance to make many more revelations about Tango, and with any luck, he’ll be able to share those. Right now, though, he’s happy right here.

**Author's Note:**

> 'shakey weapon' is Tango referring to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry it's late, and that you didn't get it filled with the inital posting, but I hope this makes up for it! 
> 
> Prompt was for a Dex rare pair. It pushed me to finish this, which has been lying around for ages.


End file.
